


Interlude: drought

by zimriya



Series: The last flame of my life (a Homin ABO AU) [8]
Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Canon Compliant, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Soulmates, alpha changmin, omega yunho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 22:13:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15783162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zimriya/pseuds/zimriya
Summary: So, like, technically speaking, Changmin’s got a flight in twenty-four hours. Only, technically speaking, Changmin’s been abstinent for the past five months. Canon AU.





	Interlude: drought

**Author's Note:**

> This is set October 14th and 15th 2015, the evening and morning of Yunho suddenly going on end of training leave, and Changmin having to go to LA for the Grazia photoshoot. 
> 
> Chronologically, it comes after **[Right now, you and I are clumsy (but you’re getting closer to me)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14707908/chapters/33989631)** and before **[Tonight, like any night, I burn like a fire](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5878717)**. 
> 
> I am not really sure why it is nearly six thousand words. ~~I lie. It’s because they touched dicks. No way Homin can touch dicks in one of my fics and keep the word count under four thousand words.~~
> 
> Betaed by Hexmen and Kinah. All other mistakes are my own.
> 
> [PRIMER](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/aboau)

**Interlude: drought**

\--

So, like, technically speaking, Changmin’s got a flight in twenty-four hours. Only, technically speaking, Changmin’s been abstinent for the past five months.

Technically.

Not counting his right hand.

Or his left.

Or once, to his eternal shame and Kyuhyun’s eternal amusement, several of Yunho’s used pillows. It was a scent thing. Changmin had been slumming it in Yunho’s apartment trying to get the thing clean enough that once it started to collect dust, it wouldn’t hurt his heart quite so much because it least it would be spotless underneath. He’d gone to sleep on Yunho’s couch mostly to prove a point (he’d failed; that thing was the most comfortable sleep he’d had since July 20, 2015) and woken up surrounded by the man’s scent and near mindless for it. Kyuhyun is an unmated, single asshole who will never find someone to put up with his poor sense of humor.

Changmin’s been basically abstinent for five months.

So, when Yunho shows up at his apartment--hair short, eyes tired, face tanned--and smiles at him, Changmin maybe, _maybe,_ forgets about the flight, and the photoshoot, and lunges at him.

Yunho catches him, because of course he does, and holds him with both hands, licks back into Changmin’s mouth and sighs through the burning kisses trying to say ‘hello’ and ‘I missed you’ and ‘please don’t stop, Changdol, I love you.’

Changmin doesn’t really want to stop kissing Yunho, is the thing, but Changmin also missed him and also loves him and he also hasn’t been able to say that in _five fucking months_ , so he takes one for the team and steps back haltingly.

“I love you too,” he starts to say, before Yunho is growling at him, and Yunho is pawing at him, and they go slamming back against the door in a tangle of intertwined limbs.

“Missed you so fucking _much_ ,” Yunho is saying, before he seals his mouth back over top Changmin’s and kisses him. “So fucking--so _much_.”

“Me too,” Changmin pants, words broken, breath broken, and hisses when Yunho fists a hand in his hair and tugs. “Unfair--”  

Yunho drags Changmin’s head back so that he can pepper kisses all over the line of his jaw.

“You don’t have any--” Changmin breaks off, groans, and bites his lip around a moan. Yunho’s unfairly talented with his teeth, and for once Changmin thinks it’s a good thing that his mating mark is farther south. The thing still aches, almost like it knows, and Changmin shoves back a little against the door to get it to stop. It doesn’t help. Jeans are jeans, and the grind of all those little buttons decorating the back pockets put sweet friction against Changmin’s left ass cheek (and right, but that’s just annoying) and Changmin regrets his life choices.

Only he can’t move back now, because Yunho has followed him, pressed in so close Changmin’s worried they’re going to break his expensive door in his expensive apartment before they’ve so much as left the shoe-safe foyer.

“You don’t have any hair,” Changmin moans out in an embarrassing gasp. He can’t quite stop shifting his hips back into the door, hissing.

Yunho pulls off of Changmin’s neck like he knows exactly what he’s doing, and he’s so wet that Changmin is practically tasting him on every inhale.

“Shit,” Changmin says. “Yunho-hyung.” His senses are on overdrive, instinct and higher thought warring with every lick of Yunho’s ‘come knot me _right now_ ’ pheromones against the roof of Changmin’s mouth. The feedback must be obscene, because Yunho’s eyes have gone glassy and pupil-heavy and he’s actually panting a little against the line of Changmin’s jaw.

“What’s that, Changdol?” he says. He tugs on Changmin’s hair.

“Unfair,” Changmin repeats, because it is. “Oh, oh, _Hyung_ \--” Changmin’s so hard he feels like he could cut ice, and already he can feel the pulse of his knot starting at the base of his cock, skin flushed and swollen. He’s nearly thirty years old and not at all supposed to be this close to popping a knot dry from just _kissing_ , but Yunho is also the love of his life and his _soulmate_ , perfect for him down to their fucking biology, or something, so Changmin thinks he’s justified.

It’s been five months and both hands and once or twice Yunho’s helpfully located used pillows.

Changmin is beyond justified.

Only, now Yunho’s here and Changmin can have him and he’s _staying_ , but there’s a literal ticking time bomb on how long for.

“Gonna fire--”

Yunho puts a hand between the two of them and sets to work on the buttons of Changmin’s jeans.

“Gonna fire--ah--”

The zip purrs down; Yunho slips a hand in; Changmin _keens_ \--

“Gonna fire manager-hyung,” gasps Changmin. “Worst schedule _ever_.”

He splays his legs better, works his hips off the door so that his back arches and pulls, and with a considering glance down through his lashes, shoves one thigh in between Yunho’s.

Yunho growls and thrusts in closer, never mind that the angle’s probably fucking up his wrist and making the zip of Changmin’s jeans bite into his skin.

Everything’s hot, and hard, and throbbing.

Changmin takes in deep, needy breaths. “No underwear, Hyung?” he bites out, and then slams his head back against the door and moans, gone.

Yunho’s relentless, hand sliding with no rhythm whatsoever along Changmin’s dick. He’s got new calluses from his five months of basic training, but he’s still the only other man who’s gotten a hand on Changmin’s cock and he uses that--pulls out tricks that normally Changmin would snarl at him for (because way to be predictable, Jung Yunho; way to be overachieving and fabulous at all things including hand jobs) but it’s been _five. Damn. Months_ so Changmin just throws his head back and sobs.

His vision goes a little hazy. He thinks most of his brain cells are all over Yunho’s hand.

Changmin gasps, heart a mess. “Hyung.”

Yunho kisses him, soft and sweet to counter the fact that his hand is still gripping, and rubbing, and moving, and making everything achy and _too_ , _too_ soon. He hasn’t gone near the flush of Changmin’s knot, and already Changmin is twitching and antsy with the need to come, or finish coming, rather, even as he rapidly realizes Yunho just _isn’t_ going to help him with that.

“Changdol-ah,” he says. “I missed you.” He keeps sliding his hand along the line of Changmin’s dick, tracing the veins and rubbing at the skin there until Changmin growls and groans and tries to knock his hand free.

“Please,” he says, when Yunho doesn’t let him, just rolls with the punches and keeps jerking Changmin off in the most unsatisfying of ways. “Please--Yunho--”

On the next stroke, Yunho’s thumb presses just a hint into the skin of Changmin’s knot, and Changmin _groans_ , head thrown back, mouth open wide, as he feels himself start in on that secondary orgasm. But then Yunho is gliding his hand back towards the tip, rubbing his thumb a little into that hint of a stream, and finally letting go of Changmin all together.

Changmin fucking takes it all back. Yunho is the worst at giving hand jobs. “Mean,” he mutters, opening a bleary eye.

Yunho’s grinning back at him, pleased. “Economic,” he corrects. “How unfair would it be for you to get two orgasms before I even get one.”

“You’re the one who wouldn’t even let me get my shoes off,” Changmin says crossly.

His cock is already starting to soften, but it’s a disappointed, we didn’t quite go all the way did we?, sort of soften. It makes Changmin’s palms itch and his mating mark throb and reminds him of fucking puberty, before Jungsoo-hyung oh so kindly took him aside and told him ‘you actually need pressure, Changmin-ah. Sorry. You just. You looked frustrated every time I saw you--’ while Changmin sputtered and blushed and wished the entire world would swallow him whole. At least it hadn’t been Heechul-hyung. At least it hadn’t’ been _Jaejoong-hyung_.

“Anyway.” Changmin feels like he’s missed something while winding back down memory lane. “I missed you too, you idiot.”

Yunho grins happily at him but takes him by the cock again.

Changmin wants to murder him. “Hyung--”

“I’m sorry, Changminnie, it’s not two, is it?” says Yunho, hand speeding up so that on every stroke he’s almost touching the still-angry pulse of Changmin’s knot. “It’s just one--”

“I’ll give you--two--” gasps out Changmin. “But maybe--maybe--inside the house--carpet--”

Yunho glances down at Changmin’s stone foyer, and snorts. “You don’t have any carpet, Changdol,” he says. He stops stroking Changmin off and finally wraps his hand around the base of Changmin’s dick and _presses_.

“I _hate_ you,” Changmin says, as he comes and comes and _comes_ making a mess of the floor and his jeans and Yunho’s fucking hand.

“No, you don’t,” says Yunho. “And only two?” When Changmin uncracks an eye he’s standing somehow out of the splash zone still fully dressed in army fatigues with the boots and the grin and the short cropped hair _licking_ the palm of his hand--

“I really fucking do,” says Changmin.

“How disappointing, Changdol,” says Yunho, clearly still on the whole two orgasms thing--Changmin wants to strangle him; he’s still in the middle of his first. “The army’s supposed to teach you to think bigger.”

“I’ll show you bigger,” Changmin says, a little nonsensically, but to be fair, most of his brain cells are definitely all over Yunho’s hand _and_ the front of his jeans. Which is gross. Changmin snarls and tries to kick them off.

Yunho just grins at him, steps closer, and kisses him again.

“You too,” Changmin manages after a while of that, already conceding the fact that Yunho might just get another knot out of him before the other man’s so much as taken his shoes off, and just a hint still boneless enough to not even try to hide how annoying that is. He works a hand between the two of them, growls at the ridiculous lacings of Yunho’s damn army pants, and then, when it becomes apparent that his higher functions really did vacate the premises with that first orgasm, slaps a hand over top of Yunho’s cock through the material.

Yunho hisses at him and shoves closer.

Their hands tangle.

Changmin’s head pounds.

Everything ratchets up several notches.

“Oh,” Changmin says, “Oh-- _yes_.”

And Yunho is letting go of his dick and grabbing for his own clothes and pulling the pants barely down and then they’re touching.

Changmin gets his hands all over Yunho’s abs, tracing the newfound muscles and pressing furtively around newfound bruises. There’s an already greening one spanning the length of Yunho’s right hip, rounding around the hip bone and making Changmin wince in sympathy because ow, it’s huge, and ow, it’s fresh, and, oh, if he puts his fingers into it Yunho whines and Yunho whining is _wonderful_ and it’s been so long and Changmin is _lost_.

It’s probably residual from the first unsatisfying edge of an orgasm, given the timing and the fact that Changmin’s knot hasn’t gone down in the slightest, but Changmin is still left feeling more than a little embarrassed and more than a little like he’s reverted back to being nineteen again.

“How’s that for bigger,” Changmin says, when his brain comes back online and he manages more than breathing.

Their hands are still tangled, slick and warm and making Changmin’s head foggy and spinny and oh, Yunho’s still hard.

“Mm?” Yunho sounds like he’s gone after Changmin into the dark himself.

Changmin drags his eyes open so that he can stare at him, and kiss at him, and then just hold him. “Missed you,” he says.

Yunho hums against the crown of his head and sighs. “Missed you too,” he says.

For a moment they just stay like that.

Then Yunho’s hips shove forward a little and he groans.

Changmin feels heat pool in his abdomen. “Fuck,” he swears, bitten off and almost impressed because he can feel himself getting hard again, even though it should be impossible--but then, what is time, really, because everything’s gone hazy again and for all he knows all twenty-four hours are gone and Yunho is one orgasm and two knocks on the door away from being taken from him again. And this time Changmin _won’t_ see him in five months.

Changmin will be in the middle of his own four months.

His jaw clenches.

“Yah.” Yunho’s hand comes off their cocks with a sweet sliding slickness. “Changmin.”

Changmin glances down at them--Yunho hard, Changmin half-hard, everything well and truly a health hazard in the middle of his foyer--and then up at Yunho, who’s looking like he’d like to touch Changmin’s _face_ or something.

He pauses; Changmin must be making a face.

“You’re such a contradiction, Changminnie,” Yunho says, dropping his hand and stepping away. His pants are still partially down his legs--not even all the way over his ass--and his boots are tromping all around Changmin’s apartment and his cock is hard and curving up towards his black army t-shirt and Changmin nearly brains himself in his haste to chase after him into the apartment.

“Hyung!” he whines, stumbling on his own half-way down jeans, before kicking them off angrily--he’s in socks--he’s in socks and his ‘sorry girls I only date models’ t-shirt and Jung Yunho is messing up his pristine white floors with his army grade combat boots. “Hyung--shoes--”

There’s the rather satisfying sound of a thud down the hall; Changmin winces for the state of his wall, and then there’s the sound of fabric on fabric and Yunho’s voice crooning out sighs.

“Your _bed_ , Changdol,” he says. “I missed your _bed_.”

Changmin feels himself flush despite himself and he picks up the pace, scrambling through his office to stop, caught, at the sight of Yunho standing just inside his doorway, not all the way out of his army fatigues and staring at him through the slope of the glass doors.

“Fuck,” Changmin says. “I’m going to _fire_ Manager-hyung.”

Yunho tilts his head at him, finishes with the pants and sinks down onto Changmin’s king sized mattress with an unfair smirk curving along the line of his mouth, and once he’s there his hips are just hard to fucking miss, especially the right one, cocked just a hint towards Changmin on fucking purpose, with the sprawl of Changmin’s teeth on fucking display.

“We’ve got less than twenty-four hours,” Changmin continues, somehow managing to make it into the bedroom without acting like a bird unable to see glass. “And I haven’t even _knotted_ you yet--”

“Well, you’re not going to be doing that any time soon, at this rate,” Yunho says, breathless even as he’s knocking his head down towards Changmin’s cock. “Maybe I should fuck you first?”

“Sure,” Changmin says agreeably. “But I’m afraid I’ve used up all the lube waiting for you, so I think I need to eat you out first.”

Yunho’s throat bobs. “That would be fine,” he says.

“Good,” Changmin says, and pounces.

\--

The problem with fucking the moment Yunho is through the door is, of course, that Changmin is exhausted by the time they manage to have a breather. They’ve ended up in a tangle of limbs spread across Changmin’s king sized mattress with the curtains not even all the way closed because the remote stopped working and Changmin couldn’t be bothered to go and grab it off the floor where it fell when Yunho went down on him.

The pillows are somewhere by the door to Changmin’s bedroom.

Their clothing is somewhere up and down the hallway to Changmin’s bedroom.

Changmin has his nose pressed up against Yunho’s ear on his side, cock still throbbing deep inside of Yunho. His knot isn’t about to go down any time soon.

“Fuck,” Yunho says finally.

“Mmm,” Changmin agrees.

He would like nothing more than to just curl up on Yunho’s chest and sleep until his flight, but if he does that, while it’ll be the best night’s sleep he’s had since July 20th, he’ll miss out on all the hours he could spend just looking at Yunho.

Which is sentimental and terrible and Changmin wants to be angry about it, but it’s also just the truth.

Changmin missed _looking_ at Yunho.

Osaka by himself had been brutal. Minho helped. Kyuhyun laughed. Changmin wore ridiculous slogans and Yunho’s clothing and put his lips to a ring every fan in the audience knew was Yunho’s because half of his soul was missing.

Sue. Him.

“Changdol-ah.” Yunho sounds like he wants to go to sleep as well. “Love you.”

Changmin’s smiling before he can stop himself and Yunho can feel it because Changmin’s still got his mouth up against Yunho’s cheekbone.

“Aw, Changdollie, did that make you happy--fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , sorry-- _oh_ \--” Yunho says, breaking off into pained whimpering and shifting, nervous hip movements.

Changmin is glad he’s still got his mouth touching Yunho’s cheekbone, because it means Yunho can feel it when he smirks, curved lips and unrestrained amusement. He lets his hips sink back up to meet Yunho’s and yawns. “Sorry, say that again?”

Yunho glowers at him and finally unseats Changmin from the side of his face so that they’re eye to eye. “I’m losing feeling in my leg,” he says.

Changmin glances down to where Yunho’s left leg is entirely underneath most of Changmin’s body. “Oops,” he says. Moving them is hard enough because they’re tied, but well and truly worth it because Yunho nearly goes cross eyed groaning at the stretch of it. Changmin puts Yunho on his back mostly because it’s easiest and he’d missed waking up tucked under the other man like a koala, but Yunho still whines, puts a hand in Changmin’s hair, and curls his legs around Changmin’s waist.

Changmin’s had one half-orgasm and one full orgasm and he absolutely should not be turned on by how Yunho can’t seem to stop sighing.

“Now I’m losing circulation in my everything,” Changmin’s mate says. He pets Changmin in counter to his words.

Changmin smirks into the hollow of Yunho’s throat this time.

Yunho cuffs him on the ear.

“Ow.” Changmin lifts off his chest and stares down at him, frowning, and then just gets distracted looking at him period.

Yunho’s tanner than he’d been coming off a month of _I Order You_ filming, but gaunter than he’s ever been. The haircut the military gave him remains buzzed short and somehow flattering, and the lack of daily makeup has left his skin somehow glowing. The scar under his eye is all the more prominent. The lines near his eyes when he smiles through Changmin’s appraisal are even more so.

He’s the most beautiful thing in the world, and Changmin has missed him like he would a limb; he’ll learn to live without it, try the latest, fanciest, ‘I’m a millennial celebrity’ technology, and still wake longing and reaching and aching for the three seconds it takes to remember that they have two full years.

Yunho is still smiling at Changmin.

Changmin leans down to kiss him like he almost can’t help it. He’s going soft in Yunho. Not even biological necessity can keep them together for more than the twenty-four hours and counting.

“It’s not fair,” Changmin says into the seam of Yunho’s mouth.

Yunho mouths affection back at him a few more times.

“Yunho-yah.” There should only be banmal, here, in the space between their mouths. Five minutes and Changmin won’t be locked inside Yunho and the only thing keeping him here will be the love in their hearts and fuck, shit, Changmin is _sentimental_. He drags free of Yunho a little--not all the way, they still have five minutes for that--and watches the way Yunho flutters his eyelashes and starts to smell more than aroused.

“What are you doing, Changdol?” he says. He sounds like he’s run a few miles.

“Didn’t you just have basic training?” Changmin says. “Why are you breathing like that--”

Yunho drags a hand down Changmin’s back to rest on the curve of his ass, not quite touching the imprint of his own teeth that lie there. “Because you’re looking at me like you want to eat me, Changdollie,” Yunho says.

Changmin follows that thought a little and has to work to keep from biting through his own tongue. “Oh, well,” he says. His hips rock a little and this time the drag is lesser. “What would happen if I fucked you through this?”

Yunho lets his legs fall down on either side of Changmin’s like the world’s most beautiful tease. “Through what?”

“Me unknotting,” Changmin says.

“How sexy,” Yunho says.

“Shut up--what would you call it?”

“Unjoining?” Yunho says. “Unlocking? Untying--” His hisses, breath catching, as Changmin sets his teeth into the meat of his neck on that last suggestion. “Fuck--what--”

“You hate it when I untie you, though, Yunho-hyung,” Changmin says. Every thrust has him able to pull more and more free, even though every nerve in his body is singing with the sudden renewed friction.

Yunho’s gone glassy eyed and flushed and moaning. “Bondage is--”

“Your favorite?” Changmin drags his own hand down to play around the skin of Yunho’s hip, lifting up better onto his knees so that he can get better purchase and fuck with more purpose--they’re all the way unlocked now, yet still Yunho clenches down on Changmin’s dick like his body doesn’t want to let them have any fun before Changmin knots _again_.

“Too much--Changdol--” Yunho’s restless. His accent is out in spades.

Changmin leans down again to bury his face in Yunho’s neck as he fucks with his eyes closed. “’s why I don’t like hanging out with your friends, Yunho-hyung,” he says, letting his own words slur and spill together. “They all talk like you--”

“Well we are from the same place--”

“Makes me hard just thinking about it,” Changmin interrupts, ignoring him, and starts to twist his hips a little on the upstroke.

Yunho whines, tightens his hand on Changmin’s ass to remind Changmin that it was there where some higher power christened them made for each other in the first place. Then he sighs and rubs up to clutch at Changmin’s shoulder blades. “Does it get you hard thinking about how you’re corrupting me, you perfect, pretty Seoul-boy--”

“You’re putting too much thought into this. I just like the way you sound, Hyung, God,” Changmin swears, feeling himself starting to go back to full knotted hardness in way too little time. (Twenty-four hours. Two years. Lost time, shouts Changmin’s brain immediately.)

“What do you mean?” Yunho is breathless and rocking his hips in time to Changmin’s thrusts. “Is it-- _oh_ \--is it the vowels?”

“The vowels are my favorite,” Changmin agrees, reaching down to start to pull Yunho off in counter to his hips. “All of you is my favorite--”

“That’s-- _Changdol please_ \--that’s a really weird kink, Changminnie--”

“My kink is you, Yunho-hyung,” Changmin moans out, and kisses Yunho before he can tease him for that, and then just keeps kissing him for the hour it feels like it takes for him to come for the _fourth time_ that evening.

“Mmm,” Yunho says, up against Changmin’s ear. “That’s kind of sweet, actually, Changminnie. Thank you.”

Changmin squints open his eyes and takes in the irony of this satiation. “Déjà vu,” he says.

Yunho’s ass gives a clench and the cock in Changmin’s hand throbs.

“Oh,” Changmin says. “And you were making fun of me for liking when you speak dialect.”

“Well, I mean I’ve been doing it on command for like fourteen years,” Yunho says. “You never got twitchy and aroused then.”

Changmin is so glad they aren’t making eye contact.

Yunho pauses. “Did you?” he says. He’s desperate sounding and Changmin hates that he can’t move away.

“Um,” he says. “To be fair, for most of that period I didn’t have a real dick--”

“Wow, okay, what are they teaching in sex ed in Seoul--”

“And second, some dumb part of me has probably been in love with you since you spat in my face and told me to quit--”

“I actually told you not to fall on your wrists, Changdol, please,” Yunho says with great dignity.

Changmin tightens the grip he still has on Yunho’s dick. “That isn’t as funny of a story--”

“Right, because me being an asshole is--”

“Everyone’s thing was how you were a hardass, Hyung, get over it. Heechul-hyung kept talking about it in like every interview--”

“Everyone isn’t the love of my life and my soulmate--”

“Damn right they’re not,” Changmin growls, thinking about Heechul-hyung and Yunho and Heechul-hyung putting his hands on Yunho, and working himself up to the point where he’s snarling and rocking his hips as if to prove a point.

Yunho seems to get off on it, shifting like he can’t quite decide what he wants from the situation, and finally reaching down to shove at the cage of fingers Changmin has still grasping his dick.

“Changminnie. Orgasm. Please--”

“But you’re not in heat,” Changmin says, even as he loosens his hold so that Yunho can at least start to rock himself into Changmin’s palm. “And you’re like thirty. A proper old military man, now. I thought it wasn’t possible--”

Yunho growls at him, eyes blazing, and manages to maneuver them around so that Changmin’s on his back staring up at him and Yunho is still sitting impaled on his dick whining at the sting of the overexertion. “Changdollie you promised me babies,” he manages. “Don’t talk like we’re not going to have babies.”

Changmin looks up at him and can’t decide what he wants to do first. Shake the man or cuddle the man to pieces because how unfair that he’s doing this now, when Changmin has an early morning date with Incheon International Airport, and Yunho has a longstanding engagement with the South Korean army. “Yunho-hyung,” Changmin says.

Yunho stops wincing through the pull on his ass and smiles down at Changmin, shy. “I know we haven’t talked about it since my ankle,” he says. “Well.”

Changmin is grinning up at him before he can stop himself.

Yunho smacks him in the chest. “Shut up. Those were extenuating circumstances.”

“You don’t have to be ashamed of your pregnancy kink, Yunho-hyung,” Changmin says happily. “This is a no shame zone.”  

Yunho glowers down at him with baleful, beautiful eyes. “Just for that the first time you put a baby in me and want me twenty-four seven I am going to make you _work for it_ ,” he says darkly.

Changmin has the distinct sense that he has lost the upper hand. In fact, the fact that Yunho is practically sitting on his dick--still not having come because Changmin was a terrible tease of a boyfriend--speaks to the fact that Changmin is resolutely _not in charge_.

“Oh,” he manages. “Um.”

Yunho settles himself more solidly onto Changmin’s dick and hums at him, pleased. “Thought so,” he says. He wraps his own hand around his cock and strokes, and then, when he notices how very much he’s got Changmin’s attention, put the other hand on the small of his stomach.

Changmin. _Hates him_.

“Thought so--oh--”

“What if we just break both our dicks before you have to go back, is that fine?” Changmin says, nonsensical and losing it. He reaches up to help Yunho get himself off, whines at the visual, tries to keep from touching over Yunho’s stomach like some sort of terrible perverted creep, and fails, moans curses into the kisses Yunho bruises against his lips because they’re safer than skin and neck and anything else Grazia magazine is contracted to take pictures of the morning after this.

“No because babies, Changminnie, please,” Yunho says, and comes all over both their stomachs.

The irony is not lost on Changmin.

\--

It would be cowardly to sneak out in the early morning without saying goodbye, but Changmin got maybe four hours of sleep once he finished fucking Yunho’s brains out and started talking Yunho’s ears off. They went over SM Town and _Scholar Who Walks the Night_ and Changmin had to recount the story of Lee Yubi losing it one five a.m. call time when she realized that the reason Yunho and Changmin had been so weird when they filmed _Hello Counselor_ the year before was because the woman complaining had a struggle that hit too close to home.

Yunho told him some of what to expect regarding basic training, joyfully named more people than Changmin had fingers for, and went annoyingly tight lipped about the first time he had to get in a shower with twenty others and everyone got firsthand experience with the fact that Yunho was taken and had someone waiting back home.

By the time they were finally succumbing to sleep, Changmin was hoarse, Yunho kept kissing him sloppily on both cheeks and the ear tips, and the birds were starting to chirp outside Changmin’s half-closed bedroom window.

And still, despite the fact that they both slept like the dead, Yunho looks tired when Changmin stands over him freshly showered and dressed for the airport.

He has bruising under his eyelids that Changmin worries will never go away, while they’re famous.

He has furrows in his brow because sleeping alone is hard.

Changmin finishes setting up Yunho’s phone to blast _Into the Water_ when it’s time for him to wake up and get collected from Changmin’s apartment to make appearances at SM and with friends before the army calls him back.

He’s hovering.

He doesn’t even feel bad.

“You’ll miss your flight, Changdol-ah,” Yunho says. He’s barely so much as stirred. In fact, not even his breathing had given Changmin any notice.

Changmin frowns. “Is this a side effect of the army?” he asks.

That gets him the faintest twitch of Yunho’s lips. “Possibly,” he says. “Just because I was proving a point didn’t mean I had to sacrifice myself every single time in the name of overachievement. Sometimes you pretend to be asleep so someone else can win best recruit.”

Changmin pauses. “You won best recruit, Hyung,” he says dryly.

Yunho’s lips curve up even more. “Yay me,” he says.

Changmin rolls his eyes at him. “Braggart,” he says.

“I never liked those books,” Yunho says.

Changmin blanks for two seconds, then laughs before he can help himself. “Yunho-hyung,” he says. “When did you get funny?”

“I’m practicing for when I’m back before you,” Yunho says, not at all bothered or rising to Changmin’s bait. “Who knows. Maybe they’ll put me on a sports show.”

Changmin snorts. “Yeah, no,” he says. “Absolutely no PD who’s ever seen you compete at anything will sign you for a competitive sports show.”

“But Changminnie, the fans loved it when we bowled together--”

“The fans thought your dumb leg shit was the hottest thing they’d ever seen,” Changmin points out pragmatically. “Yunho-hyung.”

Yunho shifts on Changmin’s bed, heedless of how doing so forces the rest of the blankets and sheets off of him and leaves him naked and tantalizingly spread across Changmin’s silk sheets.

“You are a tease,” Changmin says. “Put some clothes on.”

Yunho still hasn’t opened his eyes, and somehow Changmin thinks he’s doing that on purpose, to keep Changmin from saying fuck his schedule and climbing back into bed with him.

“But you’ll just take them off if I do,” Yunho says, rubbing at his eyes and stretching to be even more appealing. “And you’re not very nice about it.”

Changmin scowls down at him. “For that, I’m not wearing your bracelet,” he says. He stows the thing in the carry on he’s been holding like a fool for the past five minute staring at his naked tease of a boyfriend. “So there.”

Yunho finally opens his eyes. “You’ve been wearing my bracelet basically every day since I gave it to you, Changdol,” he says. “One day won’t kill me.”

“Uh huh,” Changmin says. “Fuck you.”

Yunho doesn’t close his eyes fast enough to hide the sliver of want that goes through them.

Changmin backs towards the glass doors of his bedroom somewhat desperately.

“Sorry,” Yunho says, twisting around on the bed so that he’s belly down and burying his face in Changmin’s pillow. It’s not his pillow, because it’s on the left side, and it probably smells like Changmin, because no way they’d washed the sheets.

Changmin isn’t going to make it to America not because he’ll climb back into bed with the fool he fell in love with, but because Jooyoung-hyung is literally going to kick down his door and kill them both for this.

“You are a tease, Yunho-hyung,” Changmin says.

“Sorry,” Yunho says again. “I’ll miss you.”

Changmin swears. “Fuck.” And sets down his bag. “Fuck.” And crosses the room so that he can meet Yunho halfway when the other man comes up on his elbows for one last goodbye kiss. It’s morning breath and not long enough and Yunho is so flexible that Changmin actually cannot handle it, but it’s also the last kiss Changmin’s going to get until maybe 2016.

“I love you,” Yunho tells him afterwards, with huge, brown eyes. “I’ll miss you.”

“You said that,” Changmin says. “Me too.”

Yunho settles back into Changmin’s bed and smiles up at him.

“I mean I miss you too,” Changmin says helplessly. “I mean I love you too.”

Yunho keeps smiling up at him and it hurts.

“I’ve got to go now,” Changmin finishes, somehow managing to get himself back to the door and his bag and out into his office. “Jooyoung-hyung might kill me.”

“Make them curl your hair for me, Changdollie,” Yunho tells him. “Make them show off your ears.”

Changmin makes the stylists keep his hair straight and over top his ears at Incheon, the chunky silver watch he’s been wearing since he got back to Seoul after Europe trip a stark contrast to the delicate chain of silver he’s been wearing since their first anniversary. He smiles when he sees the cameras.

Yunho’s bracelet sits in the front pocket of his carry on.

Changmin puts it on before takeoff, out of sight of prying eyes, and hides behind sunglasses and headphones so that Jooyoung-hyung can’t do more than just smile at him.

“Don’t worry, I’m just jealous,” the man tells him, which sounds like an inside joke between him and Yunho.

Changmin leans into the window and closes his eyes.

It’s just two years, he tells himself. Two years and then comeback and the great unknown.

Changmin can do two years.

\--

end.

**Author's Note:**

> <3 Can't let this series go hahahahhaha. Please comment and kudos if you liked!
> 
> [Tumblr masterpost](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/177341323245/interlude-drought-author-zimriya) || [Twitter masterpost](https://twitter.com/zimriya/status/1032984849500581888)


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